The Nuts and Bolts of the Situation
by Marzarelo
Summary: After centuries of living under the reputation born of his many disastrous lab accidents, Wheeljack's confidence in his skills as an engineer and inventor begins to suffer. But Optimus has never doubted his engineer's abilities. Eventual Prime/'Jack slash
1. Chapter 1

Alright, here it goes. I'm committing myself to a chapter-fic. I'm not sure how long it's gonna' end up being, but I plan to try to update once a week, if I can. I'm pretty slow about writing, though, due to the fact that I rarely get more than an hour a day to write. x_x Anyway, here we go.

This 'fic doesn't have a title yet, 'cause I fail at tiles. If anyone has a title suggestion, I'm all ears. The focus-pairing is Optimus/Wheeljack. Why? Because they're probably my two most absolute favorite TF characters, and I've never seen them paired together, so I thought I'd take a crack at it. Lemme' tell ya, it's not being easy, but I am determined. DX SO! Without any more stalling, here's the first chapter.

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Long periods of inactivity were more stressful for the Autobots than one would suspect. Under different circumstances they would most likely enjoy it and use the time to relax and socialize, but while the threat of the war persisted, no one could relax for very long. The Decepticons may be keeping quiet for the moment, but they were sure to be plotting their next assault. The longer the 'Cons spent planning and preparing, the more threatening their next plot was sure to be. After a few days, anxiety began to build, and some of the mechs who had been designed and trained for little more than battle started to get restless. Tension permeated the Arks and its inhabitants until, inevitably, something happened to break it. Sometimes a fight might break out in the rec room, or sometimes the entire Ark would be consumed in an all-out prank war. The ranking officers did their best to keep things under control (when they weren't participating themselves), and Optimus was left feeling like he was running the universe's biggest daycare center.

There hadn't been any Decepticon activity for a very long time. It seemed like everyone in the Ark was on edge. Optimus sat in his office and mused to himself as he reviewed the latest intelligence reports. The tension in the base was so thick that it was sure to erupt into chaos if the 'Cons didn't make a move soon, but for the moment there was relative peace. The leader had just set aside the intelligence reports, resolving to try to relax and make the most of the quiet while it lasted, when an explosion rocked the base and nearly pitched him out of his seat.

Alarms blared, echoing trough the halls, and Optimus didn't hesitate. He left his office, running full-tilt in the direction of the blast. He didn't even slow to round corners, and his feet gouged deep grooves into the floor as his inertia threatened to slam him against the wall at each turn. Prowl and Jazz joined him at the first intersection, and several more joined them as they ran, all of them armed and ready for battle. Finally Optimus slid around the corner into the corridor which lead to the wing of the Ark devoted to science and research. Smoke and dust filled the corridor, billowing out of a gaping hole which used to be a doorway, the doors having been wrenched free and thrown into the adjacent wall by the explosion. A sense of foreboding overcame the leader as he realized what room this was. Prowl opened a control panel on the wall and put in a security code to stop the alarms. The accompanying Autobots gathered behind Optimus and all was quiet as they awaited his instruction.

Optimus peered through the smoke and cautiously began to approach the doorway. The charred remains of the room beyond seemed silent and empty. His spark throbbed with dread until he heard a subtle shuffling of debris indicating movement, and the soft sound of cooling fans clogged with dust sputtering to life. Through the haze he could make out a faint yellow light flashing in sync with a static-choked voice. "I'm okay!" The leader's joints nearly gave out in relief.

The doorway was partially obstructed by debris and toppled shelving, so Jazz and Bumblebee, being the smallest two present, ducked inside through a small opening to assist the fallen inventor. Optimus and Ironhide set to work clearing the doorway as Prowl dispersed the gathered crowd. Once the entrance had been cleared, the two smaller mechs reemerged supporting Wheeljack, who looked like a mangled wreck. One of his vocal indicators was cracked and blackened, one of his legs hung limp and dripped hydrolic fluid from the joints, his paint was scorched and peeling, and he was covered with minor dents and scrapes from flying shrapnel. Optimus eyed him with concern. "Wheeljack, you most certainly are NOT okay. Will you two please help him to the medical bay? Ironhide, tell Ratchet to prepare to receive wounded."

Ironhide nodded. "Already done, Prime."

Wheeljack hung his head sheepishly as Jazz and Bumblebee half-carried him down the corridor.

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"'Jack, if you don't stop doing this to yourself, I swear I'll kill you myself one of these days. You have got to be more careful!"

Wheeljack cringed slightly and did his best to lie still while his friend's nimble fingers worked diligently to repair him. "I know, Ratchet..."

"Then why do you keep doing this to me!? You scare the slag out of me every time! You're too smart to keep making mistakes like this! You need to slow down and pay attention to what you're doing! I know you get excited, but that's no excuse for carelessness!" Ratchet had lost track of how many times he'd had this conversation with Wheeljack. It seemed no amount of ranting and idle threats could get through to the inventor.

The door to the med bay slid open and Sideswipe poked his head through, grinning widely. "Hey, Wheeljack! That was a good one! It shook the whole base! I thought the volcano was erupting!" He didn't even notice the wrench flying in his direction until it had already bounced off of his helm. "GAH! SONUVA-!"

"DON'T ENCOURAGE HIM!" Ratched shouted as Sideswipe beat a hasty retreat. The medic stooped to retrieve his wrench and cursed when he realized that it was now bent. Then he leaned out the door to bellow after the lamborghini's retreating back, "AND YOU OWE ME A NEW 1 1/2" WRENCH!"

Wheeljack couldn't help but chuckle at his friend's antics, but he quickly stifled his laughter when the medic glared at him. "Sorry, Ratch. I really am. You know I don't do this on purpose."

The medic shot him one last glare, then went back to repairing the inventor, grumbling threats as he worked. Wheeljack lay still and smiled behind his mask. He was grateful for his friend's skillful work. Ratchet's repairs were flawless. The medic had patched him up more times than he could count, and he'd never left the med bay with so much as a scratch. He couldn't imagine what he might look like if he'd had to leave his repairs to someone less capable. Offlining his optics, the inventor tried to relax as Ratchet pried the armor from his non-functioning leg to get to the damaged circuitry beneath. In that moment, Wheeljack was intensely grateful to whatever genius had invented pain-blockers.

A couple of hours later, Ratchet was finishing up his work by carefully hammering and buffing out the dents and scratches in his friend's armor. "There. You'll need a re-paint, but other than that, you're good to go. Except for that ding in your mask. Give it to me, I'll buff it out."

Wheeljack was hesitant, as he always was when it came to removing his mask, but when Ratchet held out an insistent hand, he complied. It wasn't as though Ratchet hadn't seen his face a hundred times before, and he already knew the story behind it, so he wasn't going to ask any stupid questions, either. Unhooking the hidden clasps at the sides, Wheeljack removed his mask and placed it in the medic's waiting hand.

"It's really not that bad, you know. I've seen a lot worse. But I'd still like to get my hands on that glitch of a field medic who did that to you. Any idiot knows you don't use armor solder on derma-plating."

"That's all he had. All my fluids were bleeding out. If he hadn't sealed all of the damaged areas, I probably wouldn't be here. Anyway, I don't even care. It doesn't matter to me what I look like, I just get tired of people asking about it. They always think I did it to myself in a lab accident or something. I'm not stupid. I've always worn a mask when I was in the lab, just in case something blows up in my face." The inventor's mouth, out of habit, remained still as he spoke. It's only movement was for the corners to turn down slightly in a frown.

"'Just in case?'"

Wheeljack scowled at his friend. "Okay, for when things inevitably blow up in my face, then. You don't have to rub it in, I already feel like a screw-up."

Ratchet heaved a sigh through his cooling vents. He couldn't bring himself to stay mad a Wheeljack when he was obviously feeling down. "'Jack, you're not a screw-up. You just get ahead of yourself. You need to slow down, be more careful, and not take so many risks."

"But if I don't take risks, how can I come up with anything new!? The only way to avoid risks is to work within ideas and theories that have already been proven to work, and there's only so much that can be done with all that! Sooner or later someone has to take a chance on something completely untested, or we'll never learn anything! That's what I do. I'm not afraid to take the chances that need to be taken to make progress. If that means I get blown up a few thousand times, then so be it, but if no one took those risks then we'd just keep recycling the same old ideas, and we'd never get anywhere!"

"Alright, alright! Don't get your wires in a knot! I didn't mean for you not to take ANY risks, I just wish you'd be more careful, that's all. You may not care how many times you get blown up, but I do, and so does anyone else who cares about you. I'm just worried that some day you'll get in over your head and do something to yourself that I won't be able to fix. I don't want that to happen. It would break my spark." Ratchet handed back the inventor's mask, newly repaired and polished. "There you go. Now get your aft to the auto-painter. I already input your settings."

The engineer took his mask gratefully and replaced it over the lower half of his face. "Thanks, Ratch."

Ratchet eyed his friend sternly. "Don't mention it, but I don't wanna' see you in here again for a long time, got it?"

"Yeah, I got it. I'll do my best." The medic didn't seem entirely satisfied with that answer, but he said no more as Wheeljack made his way to the auto-painter.

The automatic painting booth wasn't one of Wheeljack's favorite inventions, but it was probably the one most acknowledged and widely used in the Ark. He had come up with the idea to help Ratchet because, while the medic's skill with repairs was unmatched, he had never been very good with an air brush. Touch-ups and simple paint jobs he could do, but when it came to special details and graphics he was at a loss, so he often had to send his patients elsewhere to be repainted after he finished their repairs. This wasn't too much of a problem back on Cybertron, because there were some mechs there who made their living exclusively by doing custom paint jobs and aesthetic body modifications. Wheeljack had heard that there were humans who specialized in similar work on Earth vehicles, but the materials they used were primitive, and the paint they used seemed to scratch if you so much as looked at it wrong. So Wheeljack created the automatic painting booth. It could flawlessly replicate a paint job in under 10 minutes. All one had to do was enter measurement, graphic, and color data for a particular mech. The automated airbrushes were accurate within .001 mm, and the paint they used was a particular formula developed by Perceptor, which would cure to a glossy, scratch-resistant finish within 60 seconds under a special type of florescent light. A lot of work had gone into the auto-painter and, while it had never actually exploded at any point during its development, it had been one of the messiest inventions Wheeljack had ever worked on. He still occasionally found traces of paint in his lab.

When the auto-painter was finally ready to be tested, Wheeljack had, of course, tested it on himself first. However, there was a glitch in the way the program interpreted the data which caused it to invert colors. And then Wheeljack had been called to a meeting. At least everyone seemed to think it was amusing, but it was interesting how everyone remembered a black, pink, and teal Wheeljack attending a meeting, but no one seemed to recall that the invention responsible had ultimately turned out to be a success. Scarcely a day went by when someone didn't use it, but no one spared much thought as to where it came from. The fact that Wheeljack had invented and built it seemed to have been forgotten by everyone. Everyone but Sunstreaker, anyway. Sunstreaker HATED the auto-painter and refused to use it ever since an as-yet unidentified "someone" had reprogrammed it to paint him in an obnoxious pattern of salmon pink and neon green. With the true culprit unknown, Sunstreaker had turned his wrath on Wheeljack, or, as he had phrased it at the time, "that fragging, glitched, overrated mechanic and his worthless, rusted machines." Fortunately, though, he had been so focused on throttling the inventor that Ratchet was able to approach him from behind and knock him unconscious with an EMP before any serious damage could be done, and Wheeljack suffered little more than scuffed paint and a dented mask. Sunstreaker spent the next two days in the brig for attacking the engineer, and Wheeljack spent the next few days after THAT in fear for his life, but Sunstreaker had done nothing more than glare at him when they passed in the corridors ever since.

Wheeljack never understood Sunstreaker's vanity. He could never make much sense of vanity in general. He understood individuality, and that one's paint job could be used as a tool to help express it, but the concept of "looking good" to impress or attract others was something that eluded him. He had never much cared about his own appearance, which was apparent from the way he nearly always had scuffs and scratches in his paint. The only time his paint job was unmarred was when he was freshly repainted after extensive repairs. That was why he was never terribly fond of his auto-painter. Its entire purpose was purely cosmetic, and the inventor had always thought that cosmetics belonged at the bottom of the priority list. He was glad that the auto-painter had been so successful and well-received, but he couldn't help but feel that his time and effort could have been better spent on something else. Something with more practical applications.

All his musings aside, Wheeljack stepped into the booth for a fresh coat of paint. Once he was finished, he had to admit that he did feel better with all traces of the explosion removed from his chassis. He thanked Ratchet again on his way out, then he headed back to his lab to set about the arduous task of "cleaning up" after his latest experiment-gone-awry. It was going to be a long night.

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Ironhide sat in his usual place, in a seat positioned just inside Prime's office door. He had his own office, which adjoined to Optimus's, but seeing as he rarely did paperwork or anything of the sort, he had little use for it. Instead, he sat just where he was now. He knew that Optimus often preferred company to being left completely alone in his office, even if it was just Ironhide quietly reading a data pad by the door while he worked, and Ironhide was happy to oblige him. The tough, red mech's primary duty was to be the last line of defense between the Autobot leader and anything that meant him harm, and it had been since the dawn of the war. Optimus had hand-selected him for this duty because of his proven skills and loyalty, and his single-minded determination. Where ever Prime went, Ironhide was seldom far away, and over the millennia the two had become close friends.

It always set Ironhide on edge whenever Optimus was particularly stressed or worried about something, and few things stressed or worried the leader more than one of his men being injured and undergoing extensive repairs. For most people it would be easy to miss the signs of his unease, but after countless years of knowing and observing the leader, they were as clear as flashing lights to Ironhide. Though he appeared to be working diligently, the red mech could tell that Optimus was making only slightly more progress with his paperwork than Ironhide was making with the datapad he'd been pretending to read since they'd returned to the office.

Instead of reading, Ironhide had actually been monitoring the situation in the medical bay through his spark-bond. The moment Wheeljack was fully repaired he set down his datapad, and Prime looked up at him expectantly. "Ratchet's finished repairs. He's fine. Good as new. Not a scratch on 'im, so you can stop lettin' it eat you up. Honestly, you knew he was gonna' be fine. I don't see why you were so worried in the first place. Wheeljack's bounced back from worse."

Optimus set aside his paperwork and cycled his cooling vents in a sigh. "I know that, but sometimes injuries can be worse than they appear. I'm sure you've heard that countless times from Ratchet by now."

The older mech folded his arms in annoyance. "Anyway, the point is it's over and done now. He's lived ta blow himself up another day. You can relax."

"No, I have far too much to do. We have a strategy meeting tomorrow, and I need to finish reviewing the most recent intelligence reports." Optimus picked up the datapad he'd set aside earlier, and had only just managed to find his place when it was snatched from his hand. "Wh-?"

"You scheduled the meeting, an' you can cancel it an' reschedule! You're due for some time off before you collapse."

"Don't start, Ironhide. I'm fine. I'll take a some time off after the meeting, alright? There are just a few points I want to go over. I'm hoping we can come up with a plan to find the Decepticons. If we find where they're hiding, then we can find out what they're planning, and-"

"Alright, I get it! If the slaggin' meeting is gonna' put your mind at ease, then fine. I don't expect it'll go any better than the others, though. But either way, after this meeting, you gotta' take a break."

"Agreed. Can I have that back now?" Optimus fixed his friend with an annoyed glare, and the older mech reluctantly returned the purloined datapad before returning to his seat by the door, looking particularly ill-tempered.

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It seemed that Ironhide's pessimistic predictions about the meeting were coming true, much to Optimus's dismay. They were well into the meeting, and nothing promising had been brought up so far. Then Optimus's spirits lifted slightly when he caught sight of movement from a mech standing toward the back. Said mech was poised as though he had been about to raise a hand to gain the leader's attention, but had changed his mind half-way through the action. "Did you have a suggestion, Wheeljack?"

The inventor nearly jumped at the sound of his name, but recovered quickly "Oh! I-...I was just going to say that I've been working on a design for a device that might-" His explanation was interrupted by a scoff, and he turned to see Sunstreaker glaring at him with disdain. His gaze traveled across the rest of the mechs gathered in the room and took in their expressions, which ranged from annoyed grimaces to patronizing smiles. It was obvious that his suggestion wouldn't be taken seriously by any of them. "...Never mind...It's just another crazy idea, and it'll never work..."

"I'd like to hear it, anyway."

Startled again, Wheeljack looked up to meet the gaze of his leader, who's azure optics appeared to reflect genuine interest. Optimus always seemed sincere, but Wheeljack was sure that he was only patronizing him like the others. Optimus must just be better at feigning interest than everyone else. "It's nothing, I just thought-...nothing." The white mech withdrew slightly. He felt worthless, and he just wanted to leave. There was no point for him to be here. No one cared what he had to say, and all of his ideas were slag, anyway.

"Well, if you think of anything..." Optimus trailed off, hoping to draw the inventor into sharing his idea, but Wheeljack remained silent and didn't speak up again for the remainder of the meeting, which only lasted a few more minutes. Everyone departed the conference room with a sense of restlessness, as the meeting had been completely unproductive. The same ideas were brought up and tossed around before being rejected again and again. For over a month, strategy meetings had consisted of the same stagnant discussions. They were going nowhere, and it was beginning to weigh on the already weary Autobot leader.

Wheeljack left the conference room wanting nothing more than to lock himself away in his lab and and tinker with his inventions in peace. Part of him wanted to go talk to Ratchet, because he was the only mech who didn't think he was just an accident-prone eccentric who liked to play with explosives. Ratchet always had a way of making him feel better. But he had seen the medic heading down the corridor toward his quarters with Ironhide hot on his heels, and he didn't want do disturb them. The two had so little time to themselves that it just seemed cruel to intrude. Wheeljack turned down the corridor in the opposite direction to head to his lab when a deep and familiar voice stopped him.

"Wheeljack?"

He turned to see Optimus standing just outside the conference room door. The red and blue mech stood head and shoulders taller than the top of the inventor's helm, and his size alone was enough to make his presence intimidating. The massive leader beckoned to him, and for an irrational moment he was afraid he was in trouble until he saw the concern in the taller mech's optics. Even so, there was a nervous hesitation before the inventor went back to stand in front of his superior. "Yes, Optimus?"

"I made you an officer for a reason, Wheeljack. I know that not all of your inventions have been successful in the past, but your ideas have come through for us often enough that I'll always take them into consideration. You are a brilliant engineer, and I value your input just as much as anyone else's in that conference room. If you don't want to talk infront of the others, then you can come to me personally, but don't be afraid to speak up. I'll always listen to what you have to say." Optimus gently settled a hand on the smaller mech's shoulder as he spoke. His voice radiated compassion and encouragement which seemed to wash over the inventor, seeping into his systems and warming his spark. Moments before Wheeljack had never felt more worthless, but with a few words Optimus had managed to cast his self-doubts aside and make him feel more valuable than ever before.

The two parted ways and the inventor went directly to his lab with a renewed determination. He would present his new device to Optimus, but he wanted to assemble a working prototype first. Optimus may happily listen to the idea itself, but still Wheeljack didn't want to show up without proof that it would actually work.

Optimus watched his chief engineer depart. Wheeljack certainly seemed more cheerful now, but it had been disconcerting to see him looking so discouraged none-the-less. Granted, the leader didn't know Wheeljack terribly well on a personal level, but he had come to count on the inventor's indomitable optimism, and his seemingly indestructible will to KEEP TRYING and never give up, regardless of how many times he may have failed in the past. Whether Wheeljack knew it or not, he was a huge morale-booster. At least he was to Optimus. Aside from his incomparable mechanical skills, Wheeljack was one of those very few who were gifted with the ability to dig a grain of hope out of even the bleakest situation. Optimus admired that about his engineer, as that was a quality he strove for in himself. He usually accomplished it, at least outwardly, but with all the responsibility on his shoulders it was a struggle for him at times, whereas the inventor seemed to come by it effortlessly. Seeing Wheeljack so dispirited unnerved Optimus, but he reflected that NO ONE could be expected to be cheerful and up-beat ALL the time. Suddenly Optimus realized that the fact that he was just now seeing the engineer looking truely glum for the first time after working with him for centuries spoke volumes of just how depthless his relationship with Wheeljack actually was. No wonder the inventor was feeling under appreciated. With a stab of guilt, Optimus set off toward his office, making a mental note to take some time to better acquaint himself with his chief engineer. He'd always taken a liking to the inventor, and he was long overdue in getting to know him.

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To be continued, a week from now! Let me know what you think. o_o; And again, title suggestions would be much appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

Wow. It's been a week already! That went by fast. o_o;; Anyway, here's Chapter 2 as promised. Meant to post it today before work, but I just couldn't seem to drag myself from the warm and womb-like comfort of my bed this morning until the last possible minute. *sigh* How I hate mornings... anyway, unless I come up with something better somehow, the working title for this is "The Nuts and Bolts of the Situation." Many thanks go to mmouse15 over on LJ for the title suggestion. ^_^ Also! I forgot to thank her when I posted the first chapter, but EPIC THANK YOUZ! go to greenangel for beta reading for me, and being there to listen and provide feedback for all of my retarded ideas. X3

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Wheeljack chose an empty table in the corner of the rec room. He'd been working on his prototype for hours, but progress was slow. The device was small enough to fit in a human's palm and the tedium of constructing and putting together the minuscule components was starting to get boring, and a little frustrating, so he'd decided to take a break before he did something careless. The device wasn't likely to explode, and it wouldn't do much damage even if it did, but Wheeljack didn't want to risk damaging the tiny components and having to start over.

Ratchet had recently expressed concern over the inventor's lack of social activity, so he'd promised the medic that he would at least spend a few minutes in the rec room to re-energize instead of grabbing a cube and running straight back to his lab. Since Ratchet was currently in the rec room, Wheeljack decided that he had better live up to his promise. He had to admit it was kind of nice to be out among the others. It wasn't that he wanted to be alone, but he'd been feeling so out-of-place lately. He felt like he'd become little more than a running joke to his fellow Autobots. Only a few days earlier he had overheard Sideswipe taking bets on how long it would be before he blew up his lab again. It wasn't that the others didn't like him. On the contrary, most of them seemed to find his exploits entertaining, but they didn't think he had anything substantial to offer. Like the people humans called clowns: good for a laugh, but you sure as slag wouldn't ask one for their help when it came to something serious or important.

From his vantage point in the corner of the room, the inventor had a clear view of most of the rec room. He watched others milling around, meeting up with friends, playing card games. Several of them waved or greeted him as they passed his table, but no one sat with him, or even stopped to chat. Ratchet surely would have sat with him, but he had been cornered by an enthusiastic Swoop, who was pelting the medic with questions about his latest medical lesson. Wheeljack felt a surge of pride and smiled softly behind his mask. His dinobots were doing so well lately, adapting to life on the Ark, and learning new skills. Their progress was most evident in Swoop. Ratchet told the inventor earlier that the pterodactyl had been excelling in his lessons, and had the potential to be an excellent field-medic. The others could think what they liked about him and his inventions, but surely they couldn't deny that the dinobots were a triumph. Sure, they could get a bit out-of-hand at times, but they were young still, and they were learning. Wheeljack was proud of his creations, and they could do no wrong in his optics.

Across the room, Blaster was in his alt-mode, speakers vibrating with force of the loud music he played. Jazz had jumped up onto the table next to him and was dancing animatedly to the music while several of the younger mechs laughed and applauded. The saboteur paused in his dancing to shout a greeting and wave cheerfully when he caught sight of Wheeljack. The engineer raised a hand to return the greeting, ear-fins briefly glowing a cheerful blue, and as he did he felt a pang of jealousy. If anyone acted like a clown, it was Jazz, and yet everyone still took him seriously. The sudden bitterness abated quickly, though. He couldn't be angry with the saboteur. Jazz was always nice to him, and it wasn't his fault if no one took the inventor seriously. Disappointed in himself at his sudden surge of negativity toward the friendly mech, Wheeljack turned his gaze downward to intently study the half-empty cube of energon before him.

The door to the rec room opened as the Prime and his loyal bodyguard entered, the leader's head stooped slightly to better hear his friend speak over the noise in the room. Ironhide was clearly in the midst of a tirade about Primus-only-knows what, but his rant was cut short when Ratchet, now free from the inquisitive dinobot, waved to him from a table near the energon dispenser. The bodyguard acknowledged his bonded's greeting, but seemed reluctant to leave his leader's side. Optimus appeared as strong and confident as ever at first glance, but if one were to look closely, they may notice the way his optics didn't quite glow with their usual intensity, or how his shoulders slumped just slightly from exhaustion. It wasn't often that the leader could be found breaking for a cube in the rec room, but when he was, it was a sure bet that he was long overdue for a moment of rest and recharge. Ironhide looked at his friend with concern, and they exchanged a few more words before Optimus gave him a good-natured shove in Ratchet's direction and set off toward the energon dispenser.

Moments later, Wheeljack was jolted from his reverie by an inquiry he hadn't heard in months.

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

The inventor was so absorbed in his thoughts that the question nearly startled him out of his seat. When he looked up to see who had spoken, he was startled once again to find Optimus standing there, cube of energon in hand, his bulky frame blocking most of the room from view. How he'd missed the leader's approach, he couldn't imagine.

"Sorry, I don't mean to keep startling you, but you seem to have that reaction every time I speak to you."

"I-...I'm sorry! Yes, you can sit here, I don't mind..." Wheeljack stammered, moving over to give Optimus a seat with a better view of the room.

"Thank you..." Optimus took the offered seat and scanned the room, taking in all the noise and movement around them. "There's so much going on in here, I don't see how anyone would come here if they actually wanted to relax."

"Yeah, I know. It's not very relaxing, but still... sometimes it's just nice to be around other people." Wheeljack mused quietly, swirling the remains of his energon in the bottom of the cube.

"I can imagine. Especially for someone who spends so much time cooped-up in a lab by themselves." The leader turned his attention to the smaller mech. "I haven't seen you set foot outside your lab much lately. It's nice to see you out."

"I've just been busy lately," the inventor mumbled. It had been a long time since anyone other than Ratchet had just sat and talked with him. He didn't know what to say, and the fact that it was Optimus made him feel even more awkward. He didn't know how to talk to him outside of a professional setting. He knew Optimus must be mentally and physically exhausted. He wished he had something interesting to talk about to take the leader's mind off of all the more pressing matters clamoring for his attention, if only for a few minutes.

Desperate for inspiration for a conversation, Wheeljack looked out into the crowd, his optics falling on the table occupied by Ratchet and Ironhide. The two were never overtly affectionate in public, as it just wasn't in the nature of either one of them to behave that way. Even so, their status as a bonded pair was obvious to even the most casual observer. The way they sat, their heads leaned in closely to hear one another speak, their hands resting casually on the table top bare inches apart. They were so comfortable with the close proximity that they just looked like a single unit. Like they belonged together.

Wheeljack doubted he would ever be so close and comfortable with anyone else. His relationship with Ratchet was the closest he'd ever come, and the idea of bonding or even interfacing with the medic hadn't even occured to him until after Ratchet had started seeing Ironhide. Even then the idea had struck him as awkward and vaguely wrong, so he'd quickly dismissed. He loved Ratchet dearly, but not in a romantic sense. Since he'd bonded, though, the medic had been spending less time with Wheeljack. The inventor was understanding and accepted the situation, but still he had been feeling increasingly lonely as time went by. He was happy for his friend, but when he saw the two of them together, he couldn't help but be a little jealous.

Optimus followed the inventor's gaze and smiled softly behind his mask. It was nice to see Ironhide look so content. "They make a good pair, don't they?"

"Yeah...they're so lucky." The inventor imagined how nice it must be to be bonded. You'd always be able to feel the other's presence, and you'd never be lonely again. You'd always have someone with you. He hadn't spared much time for such thoughts before Ratchet and Ironhide had gotten together, but since then he'd begun to wish he could find someone, too. He'd heard it could be distressing for one to be away from their bonded for long periods of time, though. But it had never caused Optimus to falter for a moment, even though he'd been away from Elita One for millions of years at a time. Still, Wheeljack wondered. "You must miss your spark-mate..."

A hollow look overcame the larger mech's expressive optics. "I don't-...Elita and I have separated..." he said softly, sadness subtle, but evident in his voice.

Wheeljack wanted to kick himself. "Oh- I'm so sorry, Optimus. I didn't know-"

"It's alright. We didn't exactly announce it publicly. I wouldn't expect you to know." Optimus waved off his apology. There was an awkward silence between them, and Wheeljack desperately wished he had something comforting to say. He didn't get the opportunity, though. At that very moment Optimus got a comm. message from Prowl. "Sorry, Wheeljack. Something's come up. It was nice talking to you." The leader excused himself, then abruptly left. As low on energy as he'd been when he entered the rec room, his energon still sat on the table untouched.

Wheeljack's shoulders drooped dejectedly. He'd be lucky if Optimus said two words to him after that blunder.

Suddenly the crowded rec room seemed hostile and intimidating. Initially the inventor had enjoyed just being in the company of others, but now he felt awkward and nervous. There were too many people, too much noise, and he longed for the quiet safety of his lab. He quickly finished his energon and sub-spaced the thin metal straw he used to drink through a gap at the bottom of his mask. He got up to leave, but then his gaze fell on Optimus's abandoned cube on the table. He knew Optimus had surely been low on energy, but he was too apprehensive to deliver the cube to the leader himself when it had been his offense which caused Optimus to abandon it in the first place. Better to ask someone else to take it.

Across the room, Ironhide and Ratchet were still conversing quietly over their energon when an uncommonly timid and withdrawn Wheeljack approached them. Ratchet broke off their conversation to favor his friend with a questioning look whereas Ironhide looked mildly annoyed, but then he almost always did.

Wheeljack set the cube on their table. "Um, Optimus left this. I was hoping one of you might want to take it to him?"

Ratchet looked at the cube. "He just left it? Did he say where he was going?"

The inventor shook his head and shrugged half-heartedly. "He just said something came up, and he left."

"What!?" Ironhide slammed his fist on the table, causing the objects on its surface, as well as Wheeljack, to jump. "That slagger! He said he'd take a break after that blasted meeting, an' still I practically had ta DRAG him down here!" The red mech snatched the cube from the table and sub-spaced it. "I swear, if I find him in his office AGAIN-!" He got up, nearly knocking over his seat in the process, and stormed out of the rec room, still grumbling as he went.

Ratchet continued the conversation as if Ironhide's outburst had never occurred. "Optimus is pushing himself too hard. It's straining his systems! If he keeps this up, he's likely to go into stasis-lock in the middle of a conference, or worse, on the battlefield! Then where would we be!?"

"It's my fault," Wheeljack murmured, staring down at the table. "He came and sat with me, and we were talking, and I said something completely stupid that really upset him, and he left."

"'Jack, I'm sure that Prime's reasons for leaving had nothing to do with you. I can't imagine you saying anything that would upset him THAT much."

"I guess," the inventor mumbled, though he was obviously unconvinced. "I think I'm gonna' get back to work. My lab's not gonna' blow ITSELF up, right? I'll see you later, Ratch."

"'Jack..." Ratchet called after his friend with concern, but the engineer trudged off toward his lab as if he hadn't heard. The medic couldn't recall the last time he'd seen his friend so unhappy, and it worried him. He knew Wheeljack had been feeling somewhat lonely lately, but rather than seeking companionship, the inventor had been spending more and more time locked away in his lab. He'd hoped that convincing his friend to get out and socialize would be a step in the right direction, but apparently it had only made the situation worse.

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Optimus wasn't angry. He was a gentle and patient mech by nature, and it was nearly impossible to make him angry without putting some serious effort into it. He was, however, extremely irritated. He'd been working constantly, not even stopping to recharge. A few times Ironhide had brought him a cube while he was doing paperwork, but that was the closest thing he'd had to a break in weeks. Ratchet was livid with him and didn't miss an opportunity to rail at him about how his systems were all going to shut down if he didn't stop neglecting himself. Finally Ironhide had convinced him to take a few hours off to refuel and get some recharge, but not 30 minutes into his break Prowl had dragged him back in with an urgent-sounding comm. message.

As it turned out, Red Alert had seen a small periodic power surge in one of the Ark's generators. Long hours alone in the monitor room tended to give Red Alert's mind the chance to wander, and when it did it had the tendency to drift toward paranoia and conspiracy theories. Every time the surge registered on the monitoring equipment, Red Alert became more concerned. After contemplating possible explanations for the power surge for a few hours, the security officer assumed the worst-case scenario. He contacted Prowl in the control room to deliver a nearly hysterical message about how Decepticons must be tapping into the Ark's generators to siphon energy. Prowl had then contacted Optimus due to the implied seriousness of the situation.

The problem was resolved quickly. No Decepticons or foreign equipment were found in the generator room, and it took Perceptor less than five minutes to make an adjustment to the generator in question and correct the issue. It certainly wasn't the first time that Red Alert had blown something like this out of proportion and panicked, but Optimus kept him on monitor duty because there was nothing that got past the security officer, and he would rather deal with a thousand false alarms than risk a single security threat being overlooked. However, too many long hours in the monitor room with only his thoughts for company tended to make him more paranoid than usual, and more likely to panic. It was obvious that Red Alert was overdue for a break, so Optimus had relieved him of duty for the next few shifts. So as not to disrupt anyone else's schedule, the leader opted to cover the open shifts himself.

Now Optimus sat in the monitor room, chin resting on the palm of one hand as he struggled to focus on the security monitors. It was difficult to concentrate on something so dull when he had so many things on his mind already, and on top of it all he was so exhausted he'd probably go into stasis-lock if he tried to exert himself. Optimus was beginning to realize that this had been a mistake. Sitting here, awake but inactive, was probably the worst thing for him right now. He desperately needed to recharge, but instead he was sitting alone with nothing to do but watch the monitors and think about the hundreds of other things he should be doing instead. He could feel anxiety building in his spark as he thought of all the things that required his attention while he sat here, wasting time. To make things even worse, he could see Ironhide rapidly approaching his location on the security monitors. Judging by the look on his friend's face, and the way he nearly trampled Cliffjumper when they passed in the corridor, Ironhide was looking for him, and it wasn't going to be pretty. Optimus really wasn't in the mood.

Moments later the door to the monitor room opened and heavy footfalls entered. "Prime! What in the Pit d'you think you're doin' in here!?"

Optimus kept his eyes trained on the monitors. He struggled to keep the annoyance and frustration out of his voice. "Monitor duty. What do you want, Ironhide?"

"You're s'pposed ta be restin'! Why couldn't you get someone else ta do this!?"

"Everyone else's schedules are strenuous enough. I don't want to pull someone out of recharge to do this. It's important that everyone get some time off."

"You mean ever'one but you, right?"

Optimus cycled his vents in a sigh. Ironhide made a good a point. Finally he turned from the monitors to look at his friend with dim, tired optics.

Ironhide's glare softened. "Look, Optimus... I know you don't wanna' put extra stress on anyone else's shoulders, but you can't take it all yerself! You go. I can handle this."

"Ironhide, you're off duty. You should be resti-"

"DON'T YOU GIVE ME THAT! You're the LAST person I wanna' hear tellin' me ta get some rest! An' you KNOW Ratchet's with me on this! If you don't take off an' get some recharge, he's gonna' pull medical authority an' have you relieved of duty 'til he sees fit. Just thought I'd give you a little warning."

"Alright, I'm going!" Optimus stood. He was exasperated by the situation, but he couldn't help but be slightly relieved to be getting out of the monitor room, and it was somewhat comforting to know that his friends would go to such lengths out of concern for him. "Ratchet didn't used to make such a fuss about my lack of time off."

"Well, he didn't used ta know just how often you skipped meals, or how many nights you went without recharge."

"I know. I may as well have him hanging over my shoulder all the time now. Tell him I'm going."

"Will do. Oh," Ironhide handed Optimus a cube of energon that he'd pulled out of subspace. "Wheeljack said you left this. He seemed kinda' down. Thought you left 'cause he'd upset you."

"Oh... I'll have to talk to him. Thanks, Ironhide. I'll see you later. Comm. me if anything happens." Optimus took the cube and sub-spaced it.

"I'm not gonna' comm. you unless Megatron himself is bustin' down the door. An' if Prowl does I'll throttle 'im!"

Optimus took his leave and set off toward his quarters. Now he felt guilty on top of everything else. He hoped he hadn't upset Wheeljack too much. He'd meant to try to cheer the inventor up, but it seemed that he had only made things worse. He needed to go talk to him, but it would have to wait. Right now he needed to get to his recharge berth before he went into stasis-lock where he stood in the middle of the corridor.

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With my ridiculously slow progress, I don't know how long I'll be able to keep up the chapter-a-week pace, but I shall do my very best. At the least I know I'll have another chapter next week. So, stay tuned! And I hope you're all enjoying it thus far. o_o;


	3. Chapter 3

Posting Chapter 3 a bit early because I may be without internet access for the next few days. Extensive home renovation is interfering greatly with my writing process, so Chapter 4 will likely be late, but I assure you it has been started. But anyway, hope you enjoy Chapter 3 in the meantime. This chapter introduces a minor Original Character, though he isn't actually sentient, so I don't know if he should really be considered an OC. He's mostly just there because Greenangel and I thought that Wheeljack should have a lab assistant. X3

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Recharge is essential for a cybertronian body. Though a cybertronian can usually go long periods without it, anywhere between a week to a month depending on body design, they become increasingly weak the longer that they go. A period of recharge is needed for the body to process and convert fuel into usable energy. The body still converts energon while fully online, but the process is so slow that it can't keep up with the rate at which energy is expended. Without recharge, the body will eventually run out of usable energy and go into stasis-lock. At three weeks without recharge, Optimus was extremely close to reaching his limit.

Optimus didn't like to recharge for a number of reasons. Firstly, it took up time which he felt could be better spent doing other things. Another reason was that he didn't like to dream.

Cybertronian dreams are a by-product of their systems moving recently acquired data from temporary memory to more permanent storage in their CPUs while they recharge. As bits of information are accessed, logic centers attempt to interprate them and arrange them into some semblance of a coherent scenario. Dreams are the result. Optimus's dreams, however, were interlaced with interference from his internal repair system. It had been that way ever since his separation from Elita. His internal repair systems interpreted the severed bond as a critical malfunction in his spark. His systems regularly pinged the bond, trying to complete the connection that had once been there, and each time the negative response returned, it flashed a damage report across his processor. It was easy enough to ignore while he was awake, but when he was in recharge with no external stimulus to distract him he couldn't escape it. There was a gaping void in his spark where Elita's presence used to be. In his dreams, he sought her endlessly, desperate to find her so that he could be whole once more. He felt her absence as keenly as he would a missing limb, and his spark ached. He'd asked Ratchet for a solution to his problem, but there was nothing the medic could do for him. Spark-bonds weren't designed to be broken. Once bonded, a spark is permanently altered to accommodate the link to its mate. If the bond is broken, the only options are to live with the painful malfunction, or find another spark-mate.

Optimus was reluctant to bond again. There was no one available with whom he felt comfortable sharing that level of intimacy, and even if there were he would be hesitant to put them in such a dangerous position. The Decepticons used every advantage they had, and they wouldn't hesitate to attack his bonded in an effort to neutralize him. They had done it before, and that was one of the reasons he and Elita had separated. They were the two highest-ranking Autobots, and they couldn't risk their bond being exploited to take them both out of commission. Optimus sometimes wondered if Elita had taken a new spark-mate. In a way he hoped she had, because he wouldn't wish the pain of a broken bond on anyone, and her least of all. Maybe he would bond again someday, but until then, he lived with the pain and the spark-wrenching dreams.

v^v^v^v^v^v^v

Wheeljack loved to dream. He came up with some of his best ideas during recharge. He often awoke from recharge bursting with excitement over something he'd dreamed about, and went straight to his lab to work out the blueprints and supporting equations that would bring his new idea to life. This was exactly how his morning had started. While in recharge the previous night, he'd come up with one of his best ideas to date. Upon waking, he had sprinted to his lab and begun fervently inputting data for a prototype blueprint.

Sensing a presence in the lab, an automated drone tucked away in the corner switched from sleep-mode to stand-by and did a cautious sensory sweep of the room. Recognizing the intruder's energy signature as it's master's, the drone came fully online and disconnected from it's recharge cradle. It hovered to Wheeljack's side, being careful to keep enough distance as not to get in the way, and emitted a soft, questioning whistle.

"Morning, E.L.I.! I don't have anything for you to do right now, but hang in there. I'll have something sooner or later. Wait 'til I finish this blueprint. This is gonna' be incredible! I don't know why I didn't think of this sooner. This might be the best idea I've ever had!" The inventor rambled enthusiastically as he continued his work on the blueprint.

E.L.I. hovered patiently out of the way and listened quietly as his master chattered away. Wheeljack often talked to his lab assistant while he worked. Before he'd built E.L.I., he used to mutter aloud to himself as he worked. He never even realized he was doing it until Perceptor had commented on it while they were working together on a project some time ago. The realization had been more than a little embarrassing. Apparently all the time alone had a greater effect on him than he'd expected. Wheeljack mostly built E.L.I. to give him a hand in the lab, but also to give him some company. E.L.I. may just be an automaton with life-like artificial intelligence and personality software, but having him there at least gave him something to talk to. Knowing that he wasn't just talking to himself made him feel a little bit less crazy and pathetic.

Hours passed, and Wheeljack was so wrapped up in his work that he didn't even notice. E.L.I. grew restless at the inactivity and busied himself by meticulously straightening objects on the shelves which lined the room. It was already after noon when the inventor was distracted from his work by a strange sound. He had to ponder for a moment before he realized that the sound had been the door chime. It had been so long since he'd heard it that he'd forgotten what it sounded like. The only ones who visited his lab were Ratchet and Perceptor, and they both had the door entry codes and a standing invitation to come in whenever they pleased. Everyone else treated his lab like a mine field and avoided that entire section of the Ark at all costs. Completely perplexed, Wheeljack went to answer the door. He pressed the access panel, and the door slid aside to reveal the Autobot leader. "Prime! Why in the- I mean, what brings you here?"

"Hello, Wheeljack. I wanted to apologize for leaving so abruptly yesterday. And I wanted to make sure you knew that it had nothing to do with anything you said. I'm not angry with you at all. A situation just came up that I had to deal with, but it turned out to be nothing serious... May I come in?"

"Oh! I, er- yes, by all means. I was just working on something." Wheeljack stepped aside to allow Optimus through the door.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt you. This is strictly a social visit, I can go if you're busy."

The inventor's logic processors buzzed with confusion. Optimus almost never socialized, and when he did it was never with Wheeljack. Their conversation in the rec room the day before had been the first time they'd talked on a personal rather than a professional level, and the inventor had been sure that the conversation had been a disaster. Yet in spite of all of that, here Optimus stood at his door, making a social call. Now that he was being given a second chance to spend some time with the leader, he was determined not to mess it up. "No, it's fine. I don't mind at all. Actually I could probably use a break."

Optimus's smile was evident in his expressive optics, and he stepped inside, letting the door slide shut behind him. "It's actually tidier in here than I expected." He mused. Wheeljack felt his faceplates warm slightly, and he didn't know how to respond.

When Optimus entered the lab, E.L.I. immediately darted back to his hidden storage space in the corner, peering around the shelving just enough to observe the intruder. Optimus was taken aback. "What was that?"

"Oh. That's my Electronic Lab Interaction unit. Or E.L.I. for short. I built him to give me a hand in the lab. He has an adaptable artificial intelligence software, so he learns and adapts to his environment. Unfortunately, he's been around for a few of my... less successful experiments, so he's developed an anxiety toward anything unfamiliar. It may take him a little while to get used to you. This is nothing, though. You should see how he reacts when I get ready to test a new invention."

"Interesting. I'm sure he's very helpful, since you work on your own so often."

"He is. He's actually the reason it's so 'tidy' in here. He gets bored when I don't have anything for him to do, so he just cleans things to pass the time. He was a huge help cleaning up after that last, er... incident. After I got him repaired and calmed down, anyway. He's been especially skittish ever since then, though."

"I can imagine." Optimus shifted slightly, trying to get a better look at the little drone, but E.L.I. darted fearfully out of sight. "Oops... poor little guy. I didn't mean to scare him."

"Don't worry, he'll get over it soon enough. Really, it's not just you. Everything scares him."

"Right. Er...How does he move? I didn't see him very well, but it didn't look like he has legs..."

"He has a small antigravity field generator on his underside that kinda' makes him hover. Then he has little thrusters he uses to move around. Actually, I'm working on an adaptation of the antigravity field generator design I used for him. I think I have a way to create an antigravity generator that will PROJECT a controlled field for a short distance, so then even someone as small as a human would be able to use it to lift and move extremely heavy objects! The only real problem is that I can only get the field to extend about 5 meters across before it starts to be unstable. So the overall weight of an object to be moved is no obstacle, but if the object is wider than 5 meters in any direction it won't really work. But, if two or more generators are used, we should be able to merge the fields to create a larger field, and move larger objects! So, er-" Wheeljack cut himself off and looked away nervously. He was rambling again, and most people tended to tune him out when he did that. He really didn't want to make Optimus regret coming into his lab by boring him into recharge. The leader probably wouldn't have any interest in this particular project, anyway. Wheeljack couldn't imagine that Optimus often came across the need to move something which was beyond his strength, so an antigravity field would be of little use to him. However, when he looked back at the leader, he was surprised to find that Optimus was still giving him his undivided attention.

"You can actually do that? I never thought such a thing was possible." Optimus seemed intrigued by the idea, and Wheeljack was completely abashed.

"Well, I THINK it's possible. I haven't managed to work out the kinks and build a working prototype yet."

"Is that what you were working on before I got here?"

"No, actually I was working on something new. I got this idea last night, and I think it could be really- ...well, it's just an idea, I mean, it's kind-of... I-I don't know if it'll work or anything." Only this morning Wheeljack had been so excited about this new idea, but now that he was faced with explaining it to someone else he suddenly had doubts. People almost always reacted to his explanations with skepticism or by patronizing him, and the inventor really didn't want either reaction from Optimus. Instead he tried to think of an alternate topic of discussion, but he couldn't seem to come up with anything. As the silence stretched between them, Wheeljack grew more nervous. Just before his anxiety overwhelmed him, though, he was spared when Optimus broke the silence for him.

"Just how many projects do you have in the works here?" The leader's gaze had drifted to the many shelves lining the room, taking in the thousands of parts, tools, and incomplete pieces of machinery stored there. He could sense the inventor's anxiety, and he sought to diffuse it. Wheeljack seemed uncharacteristically uncomfortable with discussing his new projects. That was worrisome, but he would address it later. Right now Optimus just wanted to put the engineer at ease and get the smaller mech to a point where he felt comfortable speaking with him.

"How many? Uh," Wheeljack paused to contemplate the answer when the realization struck him. His face plates heated slightly and he laughed weakly, "would you believe I've lost count?"

"Really? THAT many?" Optimus looked down at the engineer, optics wide with shock, then he chuckled softly. "And here I thought I had a lot on my mind. I'm impressed. I don't think I could juggle so many projects."

"Neither can I, apparently. Otherwise I wouldn't make so many mistakes." Wheeljack countered, forcing a laugh. He meant for it to sound like a joke, but he couldn't keep the slightly bitter edge out of his voice. He hoped that Optimus wouldn't notice, but the leader was too perceptive of others' moods to miss such an obvious expression.

"Is that why you've been so down lately? Your latest 'mistake?'"

"No...well, yes, I mean- ...I don't know. Sort-of." Of course Optimus would have noticed he was upset. He hadn't exactly been hiding it, he just figured that no one would pay him enough attention to notice. Suddenly a thought occurred to him and his mood sunk a bit lower. Maybe Optimus was just keeping a watch on him to see if his mood was going to be a problem. "Is that why you're here?"

"Not entirely. I DID notice that you haven't been your usual cheerful self lately, and as I was thinking about it I came to realize that I really don't know you as well as I should after all this time. I've just... never taken the time to properly give you the acknowledgment you deserve, and for that I hope you'll accept my apologies."

Wheeljack gazed up at the leader in astonishment. "What? You-... er... apology accepted?" He felt that the apology was unwarranted, but if it eased the leader's mind in the slightest he would gladly accept it. The entire situation was confusing him more by the minute, and it was making him nervous. He could tell that Optimus was trying to put him at ease, though, so he made a conscious effort to try to relax.

"Thank you." Optimus's smile showed in his optics. "So really, it's just as I said. This is just a social visit. Ratchet suggested that I take some time off anyway... or rather he threatened to have me relieved of duty if I DIDN'T take some time off..." The last comment drew a knowing chuckle from the engineer and seemed to help diffuse his anxiety.

With the tension dwindling away, Optimus began to wander around the lab, examining the overcrowded shelves, suddenly overcome with curiosity. There were a few items that he could identify, but for nearly 80% of them, he had no clue what they were. He was hesitant to touch anything, because he had no way of knowing what might be delicate or unstable and he didn't want to break anything, or worse, cause an explosion. He thought he might continue the conversation, as well as satisfy his curiosity, by asking some questions, but he couldn't decide where to start. Finally his optics settled on a small object with several lenses and reflective surfaces. "What's that?"

"Hm?" Wheeljack turned his attention to the object Optimus indicated. "Oh, that... that's broken. It's a piece out of this weapon I was making that focuses sunlight into a destructive beam. That's the part that focuses the solar energy. A couple of the lenses are misaligned, so part of the inside got kinda' melted. It'll work, though! I've got it all figured out! I just... got side-tracked with some other projects, so I haven't gotten around to fixing it and putting it all back together yet..."

"Oh... well, you have so many projects, I'm sure it's difficult to focus on just one. It seems like a great idea, though. ...But what about when sunlight is unavailable?"

"Yeah, I thought of that! It also has a back-up battery that stores solar energy, so it can still fire a pretty powerful energy beam when actual sunlight isn't available. The only problem is that, while you could theoretically fire a continuous beam all day long from sun-up to sun-down, without sunlight the battery will eventually drain, so it's still most efficient during the day, but at least it's not completely useless in the dark." Wheeljack knew he was beginning to ramble again, but he couldn't help it. Optimus didn't look the slightest bit bored or disinterested. In fact, the taller mech's interest seemed to increase the more the inventor explained.

Fascinated with the idea, Optimus felt compelled to make further inquiries, and he found that the more questions he asked, the more excited Wheeljack seemed to become. It was astounding how quickly the inventor's gloomy mood had made a complete turn around. Within minutes the smaller mech was chattering animatedly, his ear-fins flashing rapidly to keep up with his excited vocalizations. Now that he knew Optimus was genuinely interested in his ideas, Wheeljack was more than happy to go on about them for as long as the larger mech cared to listen, and the leader never seemed to tire of listening.

Optimus listened intently. He didn't understand a lot of the technical terms that the engineer used so casually, but the bits he could glean sounded very impressive, and he was intrigued. He was also relieved that Wheeljack's usual cheerful attitude appeared to have returned in full force, and it seemed to be infectious. Not that Optimus had been in a bad mood before, but just being in the inventor's radiantly positive presence lifted his spark. The stresses of his position that were constantly weighing on him and suffocating him seemed bearable, almost distant. He made a mental note to pay visits to Wheeljack more often when he got to feeling over worked and needed a break in the future.

Looking around for something else about which to inquire, Optimus's attention was caught by a small component set to the side on the engineer's crowded work table. Confident that Wheeljack would stop him if it were especially delicate or dangerous, he reached out and gently picked it up to examine it more closely. "What's this?"

Before Wheeljack could reply, a flurry of alarmed whistles and beeps sounded from a forgotten corner of the lab, and something small flew past Optimus, snatching the object from his grasp. Completely caught off-guard, Optimus re-booted his processor, struggling to comprehend what had just happened. Wheeljack burst out laughing. Turning to see the source of the smaller mech's mirth, Optimus found E.L.I. The little drone was cradling the object protectively with one strange, spindly arm, and flailing his other arm at the leader in what he clearly thought was a threatening manner. "What the- ..."

Now that E.L.I. was out in the open, Optimus was able to get a clear look at him. E.L.I. was small and roughly spherical with a single large, round optic sensor. His arms were thin and un-armored except for his forearms, which were bulky and lined with storage panels and various tool attachments, and each arm ended in a sort of three-fingered articulated claw. The strangest feature, however, was a pair of thick, curved, battered-looking sheets of metal that hung down his back, attached to him only by hinged posts at the top of each one. E.L.I. was scraped and dented, and Optimus could only guess that he had been built out of scraps, because parts of him looked mismatched.

The inventor struggled for a moment, but finally managed to reign in his laughter so he could explain. "That's a power coupling that I took out of E.L.I. It was damaged in the explosion the other day, so I replaced it with a temporary one until I could get it fixed." Still chuckling, Wheeljack addressed the drone. "Calm down, E.L.I. Optimus was just looking. He wasn't going to hurt anything."

E.L.I. whistled indignantly and turned as if to go back to his little sanctuary behind the shelving, only to find that when he'd darted past Optimus, he'd effectively cornered himself. Now the massive mech was squarely blocking his path, and the little drone could see no way to safely get around him. In a panic, he dropped his power coupling, which rolled away and came to a stop in between Optimus's feet. Desperately, E.L.I. flew a few quick circles around the small area in which he was trapped, seeking an alternate route of escape. Finding none, he dropped to the floor, pulling his arms in close to his sides as the two curved sheets of metal on his back swung forward on their hinges. The edges snapped flush together in front of him, forming a protective shield and he cowered behind it, shaking and twittering softly in fear.

"Aww, come on, E.L.I. I know Optimus is big, but he's not THAT scary. He won't hurt you..." Wheeljack said, attempting to calm his skittish assistant. Slowly a small crack appeared at the seam of the drone's blast-shield and he peered out cautiously.

Optimus looked down at E.L.I. with compassion, and a bit of pity. Slowly and deliberately, so as not to spook the little drone, Optimus stooped to pick up the fallen power coupling at his feet, then he extended his hand to offer it to E.L.I. The little drone withdrew in fear at first, then slowly peeked though his blast-shield again. Cautiously he opened up enough to extend an arm and retrieve the object from Optimus's hand, then he quickly withdrew once more. Optimus chuckled warmly and stepped aside, opening a clear path for E.L.I. to flee. After a moment, the drone opened his blast shield again to survey his surroundings. Seeing the open path to his hiding place in the corner, he whistled inquiringly. Optimus stepped back a bit more. "Go on..." he whispered in encouragement. With a flurry of grateful beeps, E.L.I. darted straight for his corner sanctuary. Optimus laughed softly. "He really IS skittish. Maybe he's warming up to me, though..."

"Yeah, I think he is. He hasn't met a mech as big as you, but I think he's coming to see that you don't mean him any harm." Wheeljack said, and somehow Optimus could tell he was smiling behind the protective mask.

Suddenly Optimus was pulled from his pleasant reverie by a comm. message from Ratchet. "Oh... Ratchet tells me I've taken a sufficient break. I can return to duty whenever I'm ready."

"Oh...that's good news!" Wheeljack sounded cheerful enough, but Optimus could tell that the inventor was disappointed to have their time cut short.

"I should get back to work. Prowl is probably beside himself, but... I'd like to pay you another visit sometime soon. Would that be alright with you?"

"I-... yes, of course, you're welcome anytime you want!" It was more than he could ever hope for, but Wheeljack couldn't help but smile at the thought. Optimus actually enjoyed spending time with him, so much that he would actually want to return. He didn't find his frenzied techno-babble boring, and he actually wanted to hear more about his ideas. He could scarcely remember the last time someone had taken his thoughts so seriously, and enjoyed his company so much.

"Thank you. I'll see you when I can... and I want to hear about your most recent projects. I know you have more in the works than you've let on. I don't care if it's just a thought that may never come to fruition, I'd love to hear it, alright? ...Now take care, and try not to toy with anything too dangerous. I'd like for you to be in one piece when I see you next." Optimus gently squeezed the smaller mech's shoulder in a parting gesture, then walked out the door and back to the burden of his position.

Wheeljack watched him go. He was sad to see the leader depart, but even after Optimus had gone he still felt much more cheerful than he had before. He thought no one saw him as anything more than a burden. An annoyance. Something to be merely tolerated rather than listened to and taken seriously. But Optimus was happy to listen to him. Even with his most far-fetched ideas, Prime took them seriously.

As the leader departed, E.L.I. emerged from his hiding place to hover beside his master. Watching the large mech depart, he squeaked softly in a questioning tone. "Don't worry. He'll be back. He said he would... now, come on. Let's get back to work." Turning back to his work table, Wheeljack looked over the blueprint he'd been working on. Smiling softly to himself, he couldn't help but imagine Optimus's reaction to this project. Grabbing a writing stylus, he dove back into his work with a renewed excitement. He couldn't wait to present this project to Optimus.

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I won't lie. I struggled with this chapter, and because of all the trouble it gave me, I've ended up hating it. Anyway, I hope it was more fun to read than it was for me to write. I promise I'll do better next chapter. u_u


	4. Chapter 4

Hey, remember this? It hasn't been updated in a year, because I SUUUUCK!! T_T This chapter has been betaed and edited now, so feel free to point out any mistakes you might find. I dedicate this chapter to everyone who has waited so patiently for it, particularly leavingyouforme, who has been ever so gently pestering and encouraging me to continue writing this story. Also want to shout out a gigantic THANK YOU to Greenangel for being my trusty beta reader, and letting me bounce ideas off of her and helping me hash out the plot of this thing~

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Only a few days passed before Optimus found himself becoming exhausted again. He hadn't recharged nearly long enough during his brief time off. He'd only managed to stay offline for a couple of hours before the intensity of his nightmare had forced him back online. He awoke with his spark practically twisting and writhing within him, reaching out through the severed bond for a mate who was no longer there. Each time the signal returned, incomplete, a stab of pain wracked his processors. It had been a long time since he had such a terrible episode, and it took him nearly twenty minutes to calm his spark and recover from the residual effects of his dream. He made a few more attempts to complete his recharge cycle, but he could scarcely offline for a few moments when the nightmare would return and he was forced to wake again as the distress threatened to drive his spark into another episode. At that point, Optimus had given up on recharge for the time being and decided to pay a visit to his chief engineer, hoping he would have better luck recharging some time later.

Originally Optimus had intended to attempt to recharge again that evening, but instead he ended up burying himself in office work. He was still behind in reading the most recent activity and status reports, and he had a massive list of diplomatic duties clamoring for his attention. Political leaders from all over the Earth were attempting to contact him, seeking an audience or press conference with him, inviting him and the Autobots to attend various festivals and ceremonies, or extending honors to him or one of his mechs for some courageous act. Optimus appreciated all of these things, and actually enjoyed his role as a diplomat most of the time, but the responsibility of trying to sort out which offers to accept and which to decline without offending any of the proud Human officials was a chore he would have gladly done without. As much as he hated to admit it, there were times when he almost longed for the relative simplicity of the battlefield. Almost. He cared far too much for the lives of his fellow Cybertronians, as well as those of the Humans and other creatures endangered by their war, to ever really prefer the heat of battle over diplomacy and peaceful negotiation.

Ironhide, ever vigilant and attuned to Optimus's behavior, was well aware of his friend's growing weariness, but he had resolved to keep quiet about it for the time being. Ironhide usually trusted Optimus to know how far he could push himself before he needed to rest. The leader had an annoying tendency to overwork himself, but most of the time he managed to get just enough fuel and recharge to maintain himself. Every once in a while, though, Optimus would push himself too far, and that's when Ironhide would step in. When he had been appointed Prime's bodyguard, he'd vowed to protect the leader from anything that threatened him, even at the cost of his own life. At the time, he hadn't suspected that it would occasionally include protecting Optimus from his own overdeveloped sense of duty and slightly skewed priorities. The red mech folded his arms across his boxy chest and glared to himself at that last thought. Optimus, in his infinite humility, didn't seem to realize just how important he was. Ironhide couldn't imagine how they would manage if something were to happen to Optimus. How would the matrix ever find someone who could live up to the standard Optimus had set? He was the greatest Prime in Cybertronian history, and the Autobots would be lost without his leadership!

A tiny part of Ironhide's processor reasoned that his opinion of Optimus may be just slightly biased, but he mentally pummeled that small voice into silence. It didn't matter either way, really. In his position, he could afford to be biased in the leader's favor. Pit, it probably made him better at his job. The accuracy of his opinion aside, Optimus WAS much more important than he gave himself credit for, and Ironhide wished that the leader would put his own health and maintenance a bit higher on the priority list. Optimus was always trying to put everyone else first, but by neglecting himself he was ultimately doing more harm than good.

Optimus glanced up from his work at his hot-headed companion. He could easily tell that Ironhide was seething quietly about something, and he was about 95% certain that he could guess what it was. With a sigh, he set aside the datapad he'd been working on. He couldn't seem to concentrate at the moment, anyway, so he may as well take a break. Maybe he could try recharging again. At any rate, it would give Ironhide one less thing to get worked up over. The sound of his sigh drew the older mech's attention, and Optimus stopped trying to hide his weariness. "I can't focus on any of this. I'm going to grab a cube and see if I can get some recharge. Think the universe can go on without me for a while?"

A look of relief passed over Ironhide's features, and he smirked slightly at the weak joke. "I think we can manage ta hold things together."

"Alright." With a few deft keystrokes Optimus set up his automated away messages, then he sent a comm. message to Prowl to inform the tactician that he would be in command for the next several hours. "All set. Comm. me if anyth-"

"Comm. you if anythin' happens. I know the drill. We got this covered. Have a nice break."

Optimus nodded and bid Ironhide farewell as the red mech practically rushed him out of the office.

Setting off toward the rec. room to get some energon, Optimus tried to let his mind wander. His overworked processor needed the break just as much as the rest of him did, but it was a struggle. Whereas he'd been having trouble focusing on his work while sitting at his desk, he couldn't seem to think of anything else now that he was away from it. It was almost impossible to fall into recharge when he couldn't get his mind off of his work. He'd be half-way offline when the nagging pull of his overdeveloped sense of responsibility would drag him back online, reminding him of all the things he left unfinished or unresolved. He was already having plenty of trouble recharging as it was without that added difficulty. He needed a distraction. Something else to occupy his processor that wasn't the constant, oppressive anxiety over his duty.

Before even fully processing the decision, he'd altered his trajectory. He turned down a corridor that lead him away from the rec. room, and toward the science wing.

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Wheeljack stood pondering the object on the surface of his work table. The antigravity field projector was coming along nicely. He'd managed to get the components assembled, and it WORKED to an extent, but the main difficulty lay in tweaking and fine-tuning it to get the most effective result. With his full attention focused on the task at hand, the inventor was carefully turning the wrench in his hand to make a small adjustment when he was startled by the door chime. His hand jerked, the adjustment was ruined, and the wrench bounced to the floor, sliding under the work table. Cursing loudly, he crawled under the table to retrieve the fallen tool.

Hearing the commotion from outside the door, Optimus decided to risk a slight breach in etiquette and enter before getting confirmation from the lab's occupant. After all, the inventor may not be in a position to answer the door at the moment. Typing in his security code, he overrode the lock and ducked inside quietly, not wanting to disrupt Wheeljack should he be working on something tedious. Once inside he was greeted with the sight of the inventor's back-side poking out from under the cluttered work table. He couldn't help but chuckle, but he resisted the urge to make a suggestive remark on the prominently displayed aft and chose a neutral comment instead. "Did you lose something?"

"Optimus!?" The inventor jumped in surprise at the sound of the other mech's voice, and the work table shuddered with the force of his helm smacking into the underside of it. He cursed again and quickly withdrew from beneath the table, sitting back on his heels and clutching the back of his helm.

Suppressing a guilty laugh, Optimus approached the smaller mech with amused compassion. "Are you alright? Here, let me see it." Gentle hands hauled the inventor easily to his feet and carefully pulled the smaller mech's hands away to reveal a small scuff on the back of the gray helm.

The inventor's faceplates flushed in embarrassment. "It's nothing, it just... rattled my processors a little..."

"It looks okay. No dent. It's nothing a little polish wouldn't solve..." Optimus trailed off as he took in the smaller mech's appearance, then he laughed softly. "On the other hand, it doesn't really stand out."

Wheeljack's embarrassment deepened as he became acutely aware of his current state. He was practically covered in scrapes and small dents, particularly around his hands and knees, and his armor was liberally smeared with grease and grime. He had been to the junkyard the day before to scavenge for parts, digging enthusiastically through heaps of broken and discarded machinery for hours, so he was looking even more disheveled and dirty than usual. He hadn't thought anything of it, though, until Optimus's casual comment. He caught sight of the leader's hand, still gently gripping his forearm. The vibrant sapphire paint contrasted sharply with his scuffed and dirty gray armor. For once, he suddenly felt ashamed of his appearance. "I-I'm sorry. Wow, I really should hit the washracks. I just didn't think about it."

"There's no need to get cleaned up on my account. It doesn't bother me. Besides, I doubt it'd be possible to stay clean when you're constantly up to your optics in recycled components. It just shows you aren't afraid to get dirty for the sake of your work." Optimus released the smaller mech and gave him a companionable thump on the back before turning to examine the object on the work table.

Wheeljack marveled briefly at the leader's ability to take an unflattering observation and somehow twist it into a compliment. But then, he noted as he looked over the other mech's frame, Optimus's condition wasn't exactly pristine, either. The larger mech's armor was clean, but a few superficial scuffs and scratches marred the bright red and blue paint, and some of the edges of his armor were worn through almost to the metal. The inventor smiled to himself. It was refreshing that Optimus seemed to share his opinion that there were more important matters than making sure one's exterior was glistening and perfect. Not that it mattered in the leader's case, though. Wheeljack suspected that Optimus would still be attractive by most Cybertronians' standards even if he were covered in dirt and had most of his paint scraped off.

Studying the mech in front of him, he was trying to picture Optimus in the worst condition he could imagine to test his theory when his chain of thought was broken by a soft whistle. He looked down to see E.L.I. holding out the wrench he'd dropped earlier. With a sigh, he accepted the tool and muttered a word of thanks, to which the little drone responded by twittering happily and looking extremely pleased with himself. Turning his attention back to Optimus, Wheeljack belatedly registered that the leader was inspecting the invention on his work table. An unfamiliar rush of giddiness flooded him at Optimus's show of interest, and he moved to the larger mech's side, eager to explain the project. "This is the-"

"Wait, don't tell me. I want to see if I can guess..." Optimus studied the object closely, while being careful not to touch it. Some of the components looked vaguely familiar, like something he had seen before in passing. After a moment it dawned on him. "Is this that anti-gravity thing you were talking about last time?"

The inventor's optics widened in surprise. "Yeah, it is. How'd you know?"

"I thought I recognized these parts on the side, and I realized that they looked like some of the components connected to E.L.I.'s hover-panel. You said you were working on an anti-gravity-beam-thing based on the same technology you used for E.L.I.'s hover-panel, so I just assumed..."

"Wow...you really WERE listening." Wheeljack was simultaneously impressed and flattered that Optimus had absorbed enough information from his enthusiastic rambling to identify his new invention.

"Of course I was. I'm no scientist, but I try to make up for my lack of knowledge by paying attention. Anyway, how is it coming along?" He could see that Wheeljack was practically bouncing with excitement, so he mentally braced himself for what he expected would be a VERY energetic progress report.

"IT WORKS!" The inventor shouted, and the accompanying flash of cheerful blue light from his vocal indicators was almost blinding. The sudden shout also startled the skittish lab assistant, who actually darted behind OPTIMUS for protection from his master's unexpected outburst. "I tested it this morning, and the basic design works! I can successfully PROJECT the anti-gravity field, but... well... It needs just a little more work before I'll really consider it complete. Right now I can only project the field for about a 1 meter distance, and it's only wide enough to move something the size of... well, about the size of E.L.I. I think I'll be able to vary the size of the field and the distance it's projected with a few adjustments, though. I should be able to have it completely finished in the next couple of days!"

"That's wonderful, Wheeljack. I'm sure it will be extremely useful to our human friends, and even to some of the minibots. You know how much Cliffjumper hates to admit that his size limits him in any way."

Wheeljack chuckled. "You don't have to remind me. Actually, I kinda' had him and 'Bee in mind when I was designing this. I mean yeah, it'd be useful for humans, too, but I'd have to scale it down a bit for them. That'll take a little longer, but once I get all the kinks worked out, it shouldn't be that hard."

Silence fell between them, but Optimus was simply too tired to be perturbed by it. Wheeljack, however, was still uncomfortable with the silence. He was no longer nervous as he was before, but he still felt compelled to keep their conversation alive. If it remained quiet for too long he worried that Optimus would grow bored and leave, and he didn't want that to happen. Of course the inventor had no shortage of interesting projects to talk about, but he tended to keep the more far-fetched ones to himself until he had some way to show that it was plausible and not just an outrageous fantasy from an overactive imagination.

Wheeljack tried to think of one of his more realistic ideas. Something innovative and impressive enough to catch the leader's interest, but reasonable enough that it wouldn't sound ridiculous and impossible. It was a difficult task. There was a sizable gap between what a majority of sentient beings in the known universe accepted as possible and what WHEELJACK considered possible, and it was often difficult for him to find the line where one ended and the other began. After a few moments of contemplation his optics settled on a datapad that had been shoved aside on his work table and he excitedly snatched it up. "Speaking of humans, I haven't shown you this yet!" Activating the device, he handed it to Optimus. "It's a blueprint I've been working on. Sort-of a mechanical exoskeleton... for a human. I thought it'd make it easier for them to keep up with us, or... y'know, it'd sorta' level the playing field between them and us..."

Optimus scanned the blueprint, and his optics widened with interest. "Wheeljack, this is a GREAT idea." The inventor's spark swelled with pride at his leader's approval. Optimus's comment was all the prompting he needed to launch head-long into a full break-down of all of the exoskeleton's many features and details.

Though Optimus seemed perfectly content to listen for as long as he cared to talk, Wheeljack couldn't help but notice that the larger mech seemed a bit more subdued than he had been the last time he'd visited. He began to observe the leader more closely as he continued chattering about the details on the blueprint. Optimus's optics were noticeably dimmer than usual, and there was a subtle lag in his speech and movements. He also noticed that the taller mech's posture seemed to droop just slightly. Wheeljack wasn't a fully trained medic, but he could recognize the symptoms of low energy and fatigue when he saw them. Suddenly he was concerned for his leader's well-being, and he paused mid-sentence in his explanation. "You okay, Optimus? You look tired."

The sudden change of subject caught Optimus off guard and he looked up from the blueprint to see the smaller mech gazing up at him, worry clearly written in his optics. After a moment's hesitation, the leader heaved a defeated sigh. "Is it really that obvious?"

"Not OBVIOUS, really, but I can be pretty observant once my attention is focused on something." With his suspicions confirmed, the inventor's concern increased. He had known for a very long time that Optimus had a tendency to overwork himself. As Ratchet's best friend, he was often on the receiving end of the hot-tempered medic's ranting. The leader's self-neglect had become an increasingly common topic for Ratchet's tirades ever since he'd bonded with Ironhide. Though, as often as Wheeljack had heard the medic complain, he had never really worried about Optimus until now. He guessed that his sudden concern may be because he was just seeing the evidence first-hand for the first time. "Is anything wrong? I'm no Ratchet, obviously, but maybe I can help..."

Optimus shook his head. "No. I appreciate the offer, but there isn't really anything to be done about it. I just haven't managed to complete a recharge cycle in a while. I was actually just on my way to get a cube and catch a few hours of recharge, but I thought I would stop by and see what you were up to first."

"You should have told me! I'm sorry, I didn't know I was keeping you from recharge! I've just been screwing around, telling you all about my stupid stuff, when you should be resting!"

"It's fine, Wheeljack. That's actually one of the reasons I came to visit you. I couldn't get my mind off of my work, and I can never recharge properly if all I can think about are all the things I've left unfinished and the mountains of paperwork that will be waiting for me when I come back online. I needed something else to think about, and hearing about your most recent ideas has never failed to captivate me. ...And I don't think your inventions are stupid. I find them very interesting, which is why they make such good distractions from my usual thought process."

"Oh..." The inventor's's faceplates warmed slightly at the unexpected compliments. "Well... thank you. You're welcome to stop in anytime you need a distraction, I guess. Or, you know, any time you want, really. I don't mind. It's actually really nice to have someone actually WANT to hear about all my crazy ideas. I don't wanna' take away from time you could be using for recharge, though... Um... I was just about to take a break and go get a cube myself, so... you wanna' just hang out here for a minute and I'll grab one for you, too? It'd save you a trip back to the rec room."

Optimus instinctively wanted to refuse the offer. He didn't usually allow others to serve him. In his position it would be easy to sit back and let others do everything for him, waiting on him hand and foot, but that was a lifestyle he'd never desired. He didn't want to be exalted or elevated above those he commanded, so he generally refused to let others do things for him that he was capable of doing himself. He sometimes let Ironhide bring him things or run small errands for him, but that was because-

Suddenly Optimus recognized the gesture for what it was: a timid opening overture of friendship. He let Ironhide do things for him because the older mech wasn't some groveling servant or lackey, he was a close friend. Wheeljack wasn't trying to serve him, he was just offering a small personal favor out of concern for his well-being. It was the sort of little gesture that would be second nature between two people who had been close for a long time, but in a budding personal relationship such as theirs, it was a benchmark. It was questing out the boundaries and nature of their interaction with one another. If he were to refuse it, it would be like rejecting Wheeljack's offer for friendship. There was no question. Of course he would accept.

Optimus smiled to himself and sighed softly. No longer bothering to hide his weariness, he leaned heavily on the sturdy work table. "Yes, thank you, Wheeljack. I would really appreciate that. I guess I'm a little lower on energy than I thought."

"Oh, it's no trouble! Like I said, I was going anyway, so... Yeah, just make yourself at home. I'll be right back!" The inventor was halfway to the door before he even finished speaking, wings perked up high, excited to help after how nice Optimus had been to him lately. In an instant he was gone, hurrying down the hallway on his errand.

E.L.I. watched his master's hasty departure, then turned to Optimus with a questioning beep. Optimus simply chuckled and gave the drone a comforting pat before settling into a sturdy chair next to the inventor's worktable to wait. He really was more tired than he'd realized. So much so that he slipped offline before he even finished processing the fact.

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When Wheeljack returned from his short errand, he was surprised to find Optimus slumped over in recharge. Unsure how to handle this unexpected development, he stood with a cube of energon in each hand, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he tried to decide wether or not he should wake the larger mech. E.L.I. hovered in between the two mechs and whistled fretfully, clearly just as unsure about the situation as his master. "I dunno, E.L.I. He said he'd been having trouble recharging... I'd hate to wake him 'cause he might have trouble falling offline again, but then if he doesn't have any energon in his system, a recharge cycle won't do him much good..."

He continued his debate internally as he watched the other mech recharge. As much as Optimus may need the energon, Wheeljack was loathe to disturb a mech who was recharging so peacefully, especially when he had been struggling to-

-Optimus stirred minutely, his hands twitching faintly and his intakes stuttering briefly mid-cycle-

-but then maybe Prime wasn't resting quite so peacefully after all. Cybertronians rarely engaged their motor functions at all while in recharge mode unless they were experiencing some sort of glitch, or if motor functions were momentarily triggered by processors in the throws of a particularly distressing dream sequence. In either case, the inventor reasoned that it probably would be best to wake Optimus after all.

Even though he had already resolved himself to his course of action, he hesitated as he approached the larger mech. It felt strange to see Optimus so vulnerable. Of course, he had seen the leader offline due to injury on occasions when he was helping Ratchet in the medical bay, but that wasn't the same as what he saw now. Usually Wheeljack felt an almost overwhelming sense of awe and intimidation in Optimus's presence, even though the leader had never been anything but kind and understanding and fair with him, even when he'd made disastrous mistakes. It wasn't necessarily that he was AFRAID of Optimus. Apart from the first time he'd met Optimus, he'd never really been afraid of him. The larger mech simply seemed to radia te so much strength and confidence that the inventor couldn't help but feel somewhat subdued in his leader's presence.

Now, however, the impressive mech looked as though all of the strength had bled out of him like fluid from a ruptured hydrolic. This massive mech slumped in a battered chair too small for one of his size, fretting minutely as he recharged, was a completely different being. This wasn't the powerful leader recovering in the aftermath of battle, having fought bravely and selflessly to defend the Autobot cause and protect life in all of its many forms. This wasn't the heroic and indestructible Prime. This was just an exhausted soldier like any other, over worked and under energized, looking broken and weary even in recharge. Like so many other mechs he'd seen throughout the seemingly endless duration of this war.

Wheeljack wasn't sure what to make of this new understanding of his leader. On the one hand he felt guilty, like he'd accidentally stumbled across information which was meant to be a closely guarded secret. After all, the Prime was supposed to be a living symbol for his people, righteous and unsurpassable. It just felt inappropriate to see him looking so powerless and ordinary. Surely Optimus wouldn't want to be seen this way by someone like him.

Optimus twitched again, and the engineer set aside his trepidation and quietly approached the sleeping mech. Wheeljack subspaced the energon and gingerly reached out to jostle his leader's shoulder. "Optimus?"

The response was immediate. Optimus snapped online, his systems whirred to life as he got to his feet suddenly, sending the chair tumbling backward into the work table. Blue optics blazed online, and the massive mech stood primed and ready for action, both fists raised in a defensive battle posture. Wheeljack jumped back in surprise, stumbling into a nearby row of shelves, and instinctively raising his arms in a somewhat less dignified defensive pose of his own.

A split second later Optimus had dropped his guard again. One hand clamped over his massive chestplate as he took a step back, slightly shocked and embarrassed at his own behavior. "Wheeljack! I'm so sorry! I must have fallen into recharge! I didn't realize I was so-... I didn't scare you, did I?"

Optimus looked so alarmingly anxious that the inventor found himself forcing out a good-natured chuckle to put the larger mech at ease. "Nah, I'm fine. Just startled, like you, I guess. I, uh..." Retrieving a cube from his subspace, he stepped forward and sheepishly offered it to the other mech. "Here."

"Oh... Thank you so much. I must be a lot lower in energy than I thought to be drifting off so suddenly like that." Optimus accepted the proffered cube, but Wheeljack couldn't help but notice that the leader kept one hand clutched to his chestplate, just above his spark chamber.

"It's no problem, I was happy to do it... Are you alright, Optimus? I mean, aside from being completely energy-drained. Just, your recharge cycle looked a bit... off... Is anything wrong? Can I help?"

Catching himself, Optimus let the telltale hand drop to his side and subspaced the energon. "No, it's nothing to worry about... really, all I need is a cube and a full, uninterrupted recharge cycle, then I'll be back in shape. Now I'd better get to my quarters before I fall offline again right where I stand! Thank you again..." The leader clasped the smaller mech's shoulder briefly as they exchanged valedictions, then departed for his own room. He only hoped that this time his dreams would be mild enough that he could actually stay offline for a complete cycle.

Wheeljack was unconvinced, and worry sat heavy as a stone at the bottom of his spark chamber. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something wrong, and Optimus was hiding it. As much as he wanted to respect his leader's discretion, he also wanted to help in any way he could.

He needed to talk to Ratchet. Though Wheeljack wasn't quite as skilled in the area as Ratchet, he was still considered secondary medical staff. If something was wrong with Optimus, then MEDICALLY he had a right to know, so he could be prepared to deal with it should Ratchet be unavailable. Aside from that, as an inventor, he had a unique perspective when it came to problem-solving. With Ratchet's help, he might be able to find more successful ways to treat whatever affliction beset their Prime.

The engineer left his lab in the direction of the medical bay, the sensors in his shoulder still buzzing faintly from his leader's parting grasp.

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I am so sorry for the horrible wait for this chapter. I hope it wasn't a complete disappointment. 9_9 I've had a lot of Real Life stuff going on, and I've also been struggling with a SERIOUS case of writer's block. _O I want to re-evaluate my outline for this story, but I'll get working on chapter 5 as soon as possible. I'll do my best to update again soon. Until then, let me know what you think. I welcome constructive criticism. Also, if you want to bite my head off for taking so long to write this chapter, that's okay, too. I deserve it. u_u


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